Two Rooms at the End of the World
by sidewinder
Summary: Episode tag for Season 9's "Alternate". It's the end of a long week and with all the changes and stresses surrounding them, something's got to break. (Fin/Munch slash, part of my "Spaces In Between" Series.)


"Let the record reflect that I, John Munch, being of sound mind and body despite appearances and accusations to the contrary, am beyond glad that this shit-show of a week is over."

John's proclamation came as he stepped inside Fin's apartment, his partner immediately behind him. He flicked on the lights and breathed a deep sigh of relief to finally be out of the precinct. Here was the one place in this city—besides his own apartment, at least—that felt like a safe house from the madness all around them.

" _You're_ glad," Fin grumbled. "Man, everyone in the squad was singing a song of joy today when Cragen came back and relieved you of command."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, darling. Always good to know I can count on you being in my corner." John kicked off his shoes and collapsed onto the living room sofa. He rubbed his face with his hands, tried to massage away the tension that had no doubt added more than a few new and permanent wrinkles over the last few days.

Time to relax. It was Friday night, they had Chinese take-out for dinner, and his cellphone was on mute until morning. The entire population of this planet could fuck off for the evening. "May I remind you I never asked for the captain's job?" John added, needing to vent his frustration one more time.

"And may I remind you that _you_ were the one who took the Sargent's Exam without telling anyone?" Fin shot back.

"Like I said, I did it on a bet." John tugged at his tie, loosening and then jamming it in his pants pocket. Fin was banging around in the kitchen for dishes and silverware for dinner, loud enough it was going to turn the headache brewing inside John's skull into a full-blown migraine. He needed a beer to help him relax. Maybe something stronger. "You were there when it happened and you don't remember."

"I was _not_ there."

"We were at McGinney's with a bunch of your old buddies from Narco," John insisted. "Someone was retiring, don't ask me to remember who because it was the first and last time I ever met most of them."

"Andrews."

"See? You do remember."

"I remember him retiring and inviting me out for drinks, 'n you tagging along," Fin said. "I don't remember anything about no bet."

"The alcohol was flowing like water that evening, much to the detriment of your memory, I see. I think it was Bosco. He didn't seem to like me very much," John recalled. Indeed, he remembered it all quite clearly. The conversation had been full of the typical snickering over "sex crimes" and "panty police" from the narcotics cowboys. Most days John couldn't be bothered to take such bait. But when they'd started cracking wise on Fin about it, he'd gone on the defensive. "He bet me a c-note I couldn't pass the test if I took it. Any idea where I could find the smug bastard to collect?"

Fin came out from behind the kitchen breakfast bar and dropped their take-out bag on the coffee table. "Shut up and eat your damn egg roll."

Instead John got up to follow Fin into the kitchen, ostensibly to help bring in the dishes and grab something to drink. But before they could return to the living room he blocked Fin in the narrow space—easy to do with his long reach and the tiny kitchen—and demanded, "You're really pissed about this, aren't you?"

Fin looked almost ready to pop John one as he slammed a fist down on the counter, rattling the dishes and threatening to send them toppling to the floor. "No shit, John!"

"Why?"

" _Seven years_ we've been partners. And a lot of those years we've been more than that. And yet I still get the feeling you gotta keep secrets from me! Goin' off and doing things that affect both of us without talking to me first."

John crossed his arms over his chest. "So earning a promotion is somehow a bad thing."

Fin's exasperation was palatable as he rolled his eyes and let out a huff of frustration. "It is, if it means I gotta get myself a new partner."

"Seemed like you were enjoying partnering up with Lake. As if you were ready for a change of pace, perhaps?" John had seen the two of them joking and laughing together, a few times even at John's expense, and the latter had hurt. Maybe Fin was trying to put on a macho façade for the "new guy", John had thought. Throw off any suspicions about the two of them until or if it became necessary to disclose their relationship. But then again, Lake was a good looking man. John wouldn't blame Fin for having a wandering eye after all this time...

But John's paranoia only seemed to further annoy Fin. "Don't be pullin' that jealousy shit on me again, like you got when I had to work with Sandoval. I swear you're as bad as Teresa could be with that crap. Lake's decent, but it ain't the same. You and I, we're good as a team. I know what I can count on you for...at least, I thought I did."

"Fin, I'm fifty-six. I've only got seven more years before they boot my ass off the force for good. What if I decided it was time to take on a more senior position before I became a full-fledged senior citizen? Maybe I figured it was time for you to have a younger, more agile partner to rely on as well."

"That's not your decision to make for me." Fin grabbed a beer from the fridge and pushed his way past John into the living room. "C'mon, food's getting cold."

John tried to squelch his growing irritation and let it go. He didn't want to fight tonight. He'd borne the brunt of everybody's anger and frustration all week with the Donovan case and with her tricky machinations. Now he just wanted to unwind with the one individual he had come to count on to be there in difficult times. Fin giving him grief, on top of everyone else, was the last thing he'd expected or needed.

In truth it had been a difficult year so far for both of them...for the unit as whole, if he thought back on it. Months of upheavals, change and unexpected challenges had forever changed the dynamics of their squad in ways that were still shaking out. Fin had been dealing with the stress of Darius' trial and having his life, family and reputation as a police officer put under intense public scrutiny. John had felt helpless to do anything but watch it all unfold, to try to be there for emotional support that Fin would only grudgingly accept. Following that, Olivia had been on suspension all summer in the aftermath of her own troubles with her brother, leaving Elliot tense as he tried to adjust to working with Lake or the others in her absence.

Then the news about John's promotion had come unexpectedly, long after he had taken the test. And the timing couldn't have been worse, what with the captain now under fire from the Darius fall-out.

They all needed to regroup and find their balance again. Unfortunately the universe seemed determined to make sure they never _got_ that chance before dumping more of their usual diet of rape, abuse, murder and manipulation upon them.

In other words, business as usual went on at SVU, as it always did.

All John wanted at the moment was some peace and tranquility, even if only for one night. He picked up the dinnerware Fin had left on the counter and brought it into the other room.

"Dammit, they forgot the extra mustard," Fin complained.

"You've got a stash to see you through the apocalypse in your pantry. You want me to grab some?"

"Nah, never mind."

John shrugged and started helping himself to some of the sesame noodles. He was so tired he wasn't that hungry. Still, he thought he should put on some kind of effort to eat before Fin got on his case about that as well.

But no, Fin seemed bent on giving him grief over other matters. John had barely gotten down one mouthful of food when Fin started up at him again. "It's like you hangin' on to that damn apartment way up in Hudson Heights when you spend ninety percent of your days here. If you got rid of that place you'd have more money than what that promotion to Sergeant is gonna earn you."

"And where am I going to put all my stuff?" John asked, waving his chopsticks around at Fin's small apartment. It was cozy and they did spend most nights here during the week because it was more convenient. Yet that coziness meant it wasn't built for two, not unless they chose to live a completely spartan existence. "You don't have the room for it here."

"Try the dump. It's most of it nothing but your conspiracy nonsense, and nobody needs that."

"Like I don't need your shit tonight." John was done. The way he was feeling, he didn't need to hang around and continue being verbally attacked by the one person he thought was in his corner. He put down his plate, retrieved his shoes from under the coffee table and headed to the door.

"Where you going?"

"My dumping grounds for useless items, including apparently myself. All week I've had people yelling at me for every little thing I managed to fuck up doing a job I never wanted. Now you're in on it, too? What is this, a 'Take a Shit on John Munch' competition? If so, you're in the running for the grand prize, my friend."

"Are you finished yet?" Fin asked, sounding more bored than angry...which only further pissed off John.

"No, I'm not. Everything you went through earlier this year, with Darius and his trial, I was there for you every step of the way. At least I tried to be, as much as you'd let me in, which was hardly at all. And now you're complaining about _me_ being secretive and keeping you out of the loop?"

"Go to Hell, John."

"Don't worry, I'm going."

* * *

John stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom as he listened to the morning sounds of street activity outside. _Might as well give up any pretense of sleeping at this point,_ he thought to himself. So he got out from beneath the tangled sheets and went to put on some much needed coffee.

He hadn't slept much, not after the long, lonely subway ride home where he'd had far too much time to stew over everything. And now he felt like hell, physically and emotionally. Still, he was glad he'd left last night before the situation could have blown up worse than it had. Too many of his past relationships had gone sour in part because he didn't know when to shut up. When he was angry, he tended to say things that took his usual sarcasm to heightened levels of regrettable cruelty.

Then again, Fin had gotten a few good ones in at him, words that were going to take some time to let go of.

Possibly because Fin had been correct.

John pondered Fin's words as he carried his coffee out into his living room. He sat down and tried to take in everything around him with honest eyes. No, he wouldn't agree with Fin that it was _all_ "useless". And he knew Fin didn't feel that way about some of his belongings. His record collection, for instance. Or his poetry books, which he sometimes caught Fin flipping through on lazy Sundays while theoretically watching football.

But, perhaps he had let this place get out of control with some of his other...interests. The magazines in stacks on the floor, most of which he kept putting aside to look through on some future day that never came. The books and internet printouts he held onto even when he knew the authors were full of crap, as if he would some day... Do what, precisely? Send them scathing rebuttals? Need one quote for the book of his own he kept thinking of writing some day if he ever got the time?

Maybe he was letting it all get in the way of things moving further—or rather, _closer_ —with Fin. At the same time, he liked having his own personal sanctuary for when he wasn't in the state of mind to be with company, not even that of the man he loved.

John knew he wasn't an easy man to live with. Four failed marriages had proven that in spades.

He sipped his coffee, mulled over his thoughts, considered calling Fin, but...

No. He wasn't sure that was a good idea just yet. Coffee, shower, and then he'd see about sorting this place out a little bit. For his own benefit, no one else's. And after that, well…

Well. One mess to clean up at a time.

* * *

John had tied shut his third bag of recyclables and was ready to haul it to the building's trash room when his doorbell rang. Glancing up at the cable news show which had been playing in the background, he saw it was just past two o'clock. He'd lost track of time as he'd fallen into cleaning duties with a vengeance as it helped him not dwell on other problems. But when he heard the bell he knew it could only be Fin; he hadn't been noisy enough to annoy any of his neighbors (and since they mostly all knew he was a cop, they tended to leave him alone no matter what.)

He went to the door and unlocked it after a quick check through the peephole to confirm his suspicions. "Hey."

"Hey." Fin stood there with his hands in his jacket pockets, trying to look cool, unaffected.

John knew better, but he did his best to return the nonchalance in kind. "You could have let yourself in, unless you forgot the key."

"I know." Fin shrugged. "Wanted to make sure it was okay first."

"Of course." John stepped back and let Fin inside.

"Thanks."

"You want some coffee? I just put on a fresh pot."

"Nah. You know I try to take it easy on the caffeine on weekends."

"Right. Juice?" John offered.

"You got some that's actually not expired?"

"Probably not. Water, then."

"Ain't come here needing you to wait on me."

"Only trying to be polite." John returned to his sofa, where there was only room for one beneath the scattered mail and magazines he'd been sorting through. He picked up a pile of it and dumped it on the floor, next to the waste bin he'd just lined with a fresh trash bag. "Have a seat."

Fin sat and took in the assorted piles surrounding him. "What're you doin', anyway?"

"Cleaning. Sorting. I don't know." John flopped down on the sofa next to Fin with a sigh. "Thinking you're right and I should get rid of a lot of this crap."

"Don't be trashing your stuff because of me. I was the one flying off the handle for no good reason yesterday. Shit I said last night...I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

"No, I think you did. At least some of it, and it was fair."

"But some of it wasn't," Fin said. "I've been...I don't know. These past few months...seems like everything's changing. And I don't like change."

"Unfortunately change is one of the few certainties of life, my friend." John put his hand on Fin's knee and gave him an understanding smile. "So is, I think, the fact that as much as I may love you dearly, I still sometimes need my own space to retreat. So do you. That's what I should have realized yesterday before letting things blow up out of control."

"Maybe. But I kept thinking about what you said. Wasn't fair of me to be mad 'cause you got a promotion. I should have been celebrating and helping you out, not bitching and giving you more grief."

John nodded, accepting Fin's apologetic words with the grace they deserved. "And I should have told you that I'd taken the exam, instead of having you find out the way you did. Some of it _was_ petty spite on my part…but I think I was also afraid to let you down if I didn't pass."

"Like there was a chance of that? C'mon."

A shrug and John told him, "You never know. Last time I signed up for the exam I never even made it to the test on time, defeated by my lucky-turned-unlucky socks."

"Do I want to know the rest of _that_ story?"

"No. I'd much rather kiss you senseless right now."

"I'd rather you do that, too."

Fin's lips met his own, yielding and eager as he reached to pull him closer. John ached to think of ever losing this for good. He paused to study his love's face, caress it with fondness. "Let's never fight again."

Fin snorted in response to that. "Yeah, right."

"Okay, so how's this. Let's never walk out on each other angry like that again. You need or I need the night alone, just say it. But no letting problems fester for days or weeks, either. Are we agreed?"

Fin nodded. "Yeah. I think we can work on that... _Sergeant Munch_ ," he added, with a low husky note in his voice that went straight to John's dick.

"Damn that gets me hard just hearing you say that."

"Mmm, so is that the real reason why you took the exam, huh?" Fin teased, hand reaching down to confirm John's statement. "So you can boss me around, give me orders and I can't say no?"

"How can you accuse me of being so base, so ignoble?"

"Because I've known you for seven years, remember?"

"Point taken." John kissed him again, slow and deep. He then suggested, "How about we see to those delayed celebrations now? I didn't get to cleaning up the bedroom yet, but…"

"Don't worry 'bout that," Fin said, getting to his feet and pulling John up with him. "I'll help. Later. After we deal with more important matters first."


End file.
